


It's Like Having Sex While Camping

by equilateral_asshat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amazon Style, Archived From My Tumblr, F/M, Minor Size Difference, Vaginal Fisting, facesitting, pinecest - Freeform, pinescest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equilateral_asshat/pseuds/equilateral_asshat
Summary: This story is set in an AU created by gravity-fucks on tumblr called "Goddess Mabel", which revolves around the premise that the twins each had growth spurts in different directions. Mabel grew taller, and Dipper grew... longer.





	It's Like Having Sex While Camping

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in an AU created by gravity-fucks on tumblr called "Goddess Mabel", which revolves around the premise that the twins each had growth spurts in different directions. Mabel grew taller, and Dipper grew... longer.

Dipper squirmed, a panicked squeak of air escaping his lips, ribs being forced against his lungs. “M-mabel, can’t… breathe!” She didn’t hear him, the death grip around his torso tightening as a long, continuous squeal of delight emanated from her throat.

When he’d revealed that he had secured tickets to a nearby two-day music festival, she had snatched him up off his feet and shook him like a ragdoll, more out of a lack of judgement on her part. She didn’t fully know her own strength, after all, and since she was almost a foot taller than him, his twin sister could toss him around like he was made of pillow stuffing.

Not that he minded, really; since that fateful day where they had realized that, despite all their differences that they were pretty much made for each other, he had come to admire the difference in heights and strength. His sister was like a literal amazonian goddess, towering over most men and stronger than any of them might think. And she maintained that power while managing to keep a curvy, feminine figure to boot. However, despite all the love he had for her in this moment, Mabel was about to kill him with love.

“Mabes!” he managed to gasp when she stopped screaming, and almost instantly she loosened her grip, careful not to drop him. Dropping from six-foot-two to five-foot-four was a long ways to fall if you weren’t ready. She leaned down, tilting his head up and planting an apologetic kiss on his forehead.

“I’m super sorry, bro, but seriously how did you manage to afford these?! The only ones left are in the hands of scalpers who are charging more than three times the original price!” She marveled at the pair of paper slips she’d taken from him not minutes before. One for each of them, emblazoned with the concert’s name and a bunch of numbers she couldn’t decipher aside from the dates they were good on. She had been lamenting not getting tickets for weeks, since they weren’t in Gravity Falls when tickets had started selling, and they had went FAST.

“I have my connections,” was all he would admit, rubbing at his tender ribs. He would probably ache for another hour or two, but somehow he didn’t mind. His sister meant well when she’d snapped him up in that big, swinging hug. If anything every time he winced in pain for the remainder of the day, he’d also smile.

In reality, he’d scraped every penny he earned working at the Mystery Shack for their Grunkles together, and used the money to buy those tickets. Since Soos and Melody had gotten married, they’d started a small franchise with the Mystery Shack business, and were running a location closer to Portland. Stan and Ford had come back home to the Shack, to run it until Soos got somebody else hired. Which had given the twins an excuse to hit Gravity Falls for yet another summer; they were just there to help family! And nothing else sketchy at all, like using it as an excuse to have more secret-alone-time together than they’d ever have at home.

“So wait, this is like, an hour away, Dip Dop,” she noticed as she read over the location on the tickets. Ever since “the balloon head” incident at Woodstick, most concerts wouldn’t set up close to town anymore. “Where are we even staying? Did you get us a motel room?” She gave him a teasing eyebrow waggle, and he waved it off.

“No, we’ll have to rough it. There’s a space on the grounds of the concert for people with tickets like ours to set up tents,” he explained, poking around in the closet space of the small attic room they shared at the Shack. At least they’d finally been given bigger beds than they’d had their first year there. He emerged with a long, oblong package with a zipper down the side. One of his old tents, probably big enough for four people actually, but with as tall as his sister was, it would be just fine for the two of them.

Mabel suddenly felt very self conscious when he said ‘tickets like ours’, and sat on the edge of a bed to peer closer at the two slips. They did indeed say “campground clearance” when she looked closer. “Dipper, how much did you spend on these?”

“Oh ho ho no, nope. You don’t get to feel guilty about that. We’re gonna go watch hippies and hipsters play music while we shriek over the crowd, and then we’re going to enjoy camping out under the stars. Consider it an early birthday gift, oh sister-goddess of mine.”

“ _Goddess_?” she said with a half amused, half flattered tone. Uh oh, had he said that out loud? Why did he let that slip. “If I’m a _Goddess_ then you get over here and show me some tribute!” she purred, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him into the bed with little-to-no effort.

Okay, maybe letting that slip wasn’t so bad.

———  
———

It was hot out. So very, very hot. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had his sister’s shadow to stand in while they waited in the line, he’d probably have melted long before they got in. Luckily once they’d gotten through the gate and had their passes secured in lanyards around their necks, they raced to the camping area and found their designated spot. Once they set the tent up, they wandered back into the main grounds, and were somewhat comfortably occupying space in the shade of a convenient vendor tent. They sat here, leaned against one another, Mabel fanning herself with a brochure she had folded into pleats and then spread out.

Her outfit was in layers, and probably wasn’t helping; she had on a set of overalls that the legs of only came to her knees, the denim acid washed and rubbed threadbare in several spots, patched with random bits of fabric in others. Underneath that she had on a pastel pink-and-green tie dye shirt, with a low sweeping neckline that showed off her cleavage. That wonderful valley of flesh that-Dipper snapped his eyes away from that wonderful sight. It wasn’t out of the fear of being caught staring at his sister’s chest. Nobody they knew should be here so they wouldn’t be found out. It was just too hot to get that excited right now.

“Uuuuugggghhh, when does the music start?! Maybe tunes would distract me from this unbearable heat!” Dipper merely nodded in agreement with his sister as she lamented the weather. He picked at his own tie-dyed shirt, a random swirl of colors blotting the surface, clinging to his sweaty skin. He wore a pair of jeans that expanded towards the ankles, almost exactly like bell bottoms, but thankfully at a more gradual slope than those did. These were also threadbare in some spots and patched with random fabric swatches in others. He also had on a dark blue denim vest his sister had sewn for him, the bottom frayed on purpose. Each twin wore a pair of cheesy plastic sunglasses, Mabel’s overflowing with plastic flower shapes she had glued to them, his own merely chunky plastic aviators with flip-up lenses.

While they lounged in the shade, Mabel started picking at dandelions that had either dodged the efforts of landscapers or popped up shortly after the area was mowed. Dipper shifted, laying with his head in her lap, sighing happily. “Even if I melt into a puddle of goop, at least I got to do it with my favorite Mabel,” he remarked, eyes closed peacefully. She bent down and planted a soft kiss on his lips with a giggle.

“I’m your _only_ Mabel, goofus.” His turn to giggle, smirking as he opened one eye to look up at her smiling face. She was perfect, from her honey-brown eyes, to her rosy cheeks, to that adorable button nose. Perfect, and all his.

“I maintain my current position on the matter, regardless,” he joked, both of them bursting into laughter seconds later. She rubbed at his cheek lovingly, a happy sigh escaping her. Her hands were soon busy again with the flowers she’d been picking, and in no time she had a ring of dandelions fashioned into a flower crown. She plopped it on her head just as the first twang of music came from the main stage across the hill.

“Ohmigosh FINALLY,” she proclaimed, standing up before Dipper could move. He rolled to the side with an uneasy oof, but before he could fuss she lifted him to his feet and dusted him off with a shy chuckle. “Oops, heh, sorry bro-bro.”

He just shrugged it off, grabbing her hand. “Eh, I’m fine. Lead the way, sis. You’re higher than I am in the food chain, people will clear a path for you.”

Hand in hand they made their way as close as the could to the stage, until the crowd ahead had grown too dense. Dipper stood on his tip toes beside his sister, straining to see the stage as the first act started. He could hear just fine, but couldn’t see anything. He frowned, trying to sneak glimpses through the first set was an effort in futility. Once the first band was done, Mabel turned to smile down at him excitedly, then noticed his frown.

“What’s wrong, Dipperoo?” she asked, leaning down to hear him in the crowd.

“I can’t see shit,” he replied bluntly, grimacing at the taller people ahead of himself. He didn’t even look over until she tapped his shoulder, and he noticed she was kneeling on the ground, pointing at her shoulders with a thumb. “Mabes, don’t you think I’m a bit heavy for that? I know you’re strong and all, but…” he protested.

“Nuh uh, nupe, none of that jank. I say climb on, so climb on!” Begrudgingly, he obliged, one leg slung over each shoulder, and then held fast in place by her hands securing him tightly as she lifted him up over the crowd. “How’s the view now, bro-heim?”

“I can see everything now, ha!” he laughed in triumph. She chuckled with him, turning her attention back to the stage just in time for the next act to begin. When she saw the stocky frame, the tiny wings and the mop of blonde curly hair she nearly dropped her brother. _Oh god please don’t let him see us out here._

“ **Who’s ready to rock with the LOVE GOD**?!” he called out and the crowd screamed in anticipation. Even Dipper gave an excitable yell of confirmation. As soon as the music started and the pudgy cherub on stage started singing, she relaxed and enjoyed the show.

———  
———

Several songs later, Dipper tapped the top of his sister’s head. When she looked up at him, he pointed down to the ground, and she gladly lowered to her knees, wobbling just a bit; she’d locked them halfway through the set to keep her brother held aloft and had started to feel the fatigue from it. When he had managed to stumble onto the ground, she stood back up slowly. Her knees were REALLY stiff. She wobbled for a moment.

“Hey, whoa there Mabes,” he half-shouted over the roaring crowd. “This set’s almost over, I think, how about we go grab something to eat from a vendor then hit the tent? It’s getting way too crowded over here.”

“I’m with ya there, Dippin’ Dot. Whatcha wanna eat?” They hashed out ideas for where to eat as they navigated the growing sea of bodies. Dipper wanted an overly-greasy hamburger, but Mabel needed sugar to keep running and sought out anything cold and sweet. She eventually found a place serving Pitt-floats, and reveled in the delicious peach soda and ice cream concoction while her brother scarfed down his sandwich. After they’d both polished off their meals, growing weariness set in.

“Hey, Mabes? I think I’m ready to _**chill**_ at the tent for awhile,” he remarked, glancing over to see if she caught the slight hint of suggestion in his tone. She just nodded, then froze, blinking, a slow grin spreading until it was ear-to-ear.

“But Diiiipperrrr,” she playfully groaned, “How can we chill without the Netflix part of the equation?” They both laughed as they stood, and then half-jogged back towards the tent. It had seemed so close earlier, but then again, Dipper reminded himself, they had showed up early enough that the mass of people was half of what it had become. They had to stick together in the packed walkways to avoid losing one another, and the herd of bodies made things cramped, and slow moving. The closer they got to the camping area, the more thankful Dipper was he’d suggested heading that way to begin with.

After flashing their passes to the guard at the entry to the fenced off camping area, they hurried to the tent. Mabel was there first, and stole the chance to bend down and give her backside a wiggle as she unzipped the flap. A playful growl rose in her brothers throat as his hand gave it an appreciative squeeze, only to be swatted away. He scoffed in shock, giving the smacked hand a shake.

“Nuh uh, no hands on the goods until we get behind closed d-er, flap,” she taunted, clambering after she had the flap undone. He followed close behind, rolling his eyes at her as he turned to zip the tent back up. While he was trying to get the zipper to move faster, he felt an open palm and fingers grab at his own rear.

“H-hey! I thought you said-” he started to protest, swiftly yanking the zipper closed. His protest was cut off by a sudden tug backwards, his shoulders catching just under her breasts. This urgent embrace was followed by a loving kiss. The sensation of Mabel’s lips pressed to his own instantly washed the argument out of him, limbs going momentarily limp. She broke the kiss with an almost agonizingly slow pull away.

“I told _you_ no touching, never said anything about placing restrictions on what I can or can’t go grabbin’,” she teased, kissing him again, deeper this time, tongue flitting out to slide along his lips. He gladly parted them, and her tongue sought out his own, the two muscles twisting, dancing together in the quiet darkness of their tent. As the makeout session continued, Mabel’s hands crept south, undoing the button and fly on her brother’s jeans expertly. As soon as she had his waistband lowered, his arousal sprung free.

When the two had hit puberty, Mabel had skyrocketed in height. Every inch she grew over Dipper, he’d apparently put on below the belt. And, despite the fact that this was far from the first time they’d ever done anything remotely sexual together, it still frightened and impressed her. They’d even taken to calling it “the Dork”, and typically no matter what, that nickname would make them laugh. She wrapped her fingers around it, and mentally noted that the weight and warmth of the thing was still impressive, every time.

“Mnnnggg, find something you like down there, sis?” With a grunt and flex of a few muscles down below, he caused the member to pulse and flex in her grip for emphasis. She yiped, then giggled, giving it a small waggle, to which he groaned. “Mabes, I love you but it’s not a joystick.”

“Well yeah, joysticks don’t get this friggin’ huge, Dip,” she mumbled in his ear before pressing her lips to the spot just under his earlobe. He writhed in her grip, tormented by her chosen methods of affection. “Nor are they as much fun to wrap my lips around…”

For half a moment, Dipper had considered saying something in response. However, he wouldn’t remember if it was supposed to be flirty, or snarky, or teasing. The second his mouth opened, her lips were on his again, and he heard the sound of snaps being undone. Followed by the sound of fabric rustling while she wiggled around behind him. When she broke the kiss this time, she rolled away, leaving him to land on his back with a grunt. Before he even processed thought enough to protest, a knee landed on either side of his face, and when he looked up he was greeted with a view he’d never tire of.

“Dearest sister, somebody appears to have absconded with your overalls,” he said with a salacious smirk. She just rolled her eyes at his response, shifting her position and plopping herself down over his face, giving her hips a wiggle as she settled comfortably into place.

“How 'bout you use that tongue for worship instead of lewd commentary, brother mi-EEK!” she started to say, but he had the same idea she did, it would seem. His tongue had lashed out, dragging along the cleft of womanhood that had been planted squarely to his lips, then again, and again. Every time the tip crossed over her bud, her thighs squeezed tighter together. “HolycrapDipperit'snotarace,” she hurriedly breathed out as she leaned down and popped the end of his endowment past her lips.

She groaned around his flesh, savoring the taste of his flesh against her tongue. Every lap of his eager tongue was matched with her trying to choke down another inch of his manhood, until eventually she nuzzle down against the warm flesh of his balls. A throaty chuckle rumbled through her chest, causing her to vibrate around his length. He tensed, and finally she began pulling back at an agonizingly slow, teasing pace. When she reached the tip, she pulled off with a deep gasp, a strand of spittle running from lower lip to glans. With a lick of her lips, she severed the connection and lifted up off of her brother’s eager tongue, to which he responded with bost a deep breath, refilling his lungs, and then whimpering.

“What, was I not doing a good enough job, why’d you move?” he lamented. Swiveling about to face him, she planted her lips to his and swirled her tongue against his own, tasting herself there with a low, sultry moan. She broke the kiss after a lingering moment or two, giving him a gentle peck on the lips.

“No, no, you were doing fine, but it occurs to me that I don’t often get much other than 'the Dork’,” she said, giving the organ in question a honk at the mention of its nickname, which caused him to groan, “or your tongue, and I was curious; just how magic are your fingers?” He perked a brow as she leaned in, holding him by the wrist, planting gentle kisses on the fingertips of his right hand. Then on each of the knuckles. “I mean, they give a pretty good neckrub.” She kissed up his forearm, his bicep, to his ear, making him squirm all the way.

“Geeze, Mabes, you d-don’t have to butter me up to get me to do… well, anything you’d want me to, really,” he admitted, blushing heavily. She purred in his ear, the grip on his wrist steering his hand down past her belly button, then between her parted legs where that hot, wet gateway to heaven was. Where the drool he left behind ended and her own fluids began, it was impossible to tell. Nor did it matter, really, as his fingers quickly began to explore.

Down over her outer folds, then spreading them apart slowly, one finger sliding up the divide against the tender flesh there. She quivered at his touch, burying her face in his hair as the rough skin of his fingers triggered sensations her own soft skin did not. Nor did the surface of his tongue, or the stiff, hot flesh of his engorged member when it rubbed there. She didn’t often get more than a fleeting pass with his fingers, so feeling him linger was a new brand of heaven.

“Mmmnnn… m-more, please,” she mumbled into that brown mop of hair, her own fingers digging into the shoulders of his shirt. He obliged without hesitation, one finger sliding downwards and curling to wriggle inside of her, instantly met by eager heat. Her legs gave an involuntary tremble at his touch, a whimper of pleasure rising in her throat. Oh how he loved that sound. She hissed inwardly, muscles clamping as the tip of his digit found a telltale spot. The whimper gave way to a growl. “Mmooorre…”

With a twinge of regret, he slid away from her grasp to reposition, sitting himself down between those long, shapely legs for a better angle. He admired the view, momentarily; the way her sex greedily clamped around his finger, the way she bit her lip as he hands tried to grasp the floor of the tent. When he slid a second finger in alongside the first, her eyes snapped open, mouth forming an O-shape as a shout hitched in her throat. Both digits pressed upwards, against the front of her inner walls, and her body trembled. With a loving, inquiring tone, before she could even say anything, he asked, “More?” She only nodded.

A third finger joined the first two, his hand twisting at the wrist. He marveled at how easily three fingers had managed to squeeze in, the wetness of her arousal lubricating the way easily. Her hips bucked to meet the fingers every time he pressed deeper, her toes curled in bliss. He was so lost in thought about his “work” that he didn’t notice when his sister sat up, grabbed a chunk of hair and angled him for one of the most aggressive kisses they had ever shared to date.

Her tongue didn’t slip past his lips so much as force its way through like a battering ram, curling against his as though she were trying to tug it back into her own mouth. He obliged, his tongue trying to press back against her own in vain. Her kiss swollen lips consumed his own set, overpowering him. Only when she surfaced for air did he feel a modicum of mercy from that luscious pair of lips on his own.

“Give. Me. _MORE_.” Her eyes had fire behind them, one of both greed and passion. She curled her fingers on the fabric framing his shoulders, gripping as hard as she could. Her nails started to bite into the skin underneath, causing him to wince and a whine to gurgle out of his throat. She loosened her grip immediately, but maintained the smoldering stare. Holding her gaze, he uncurled his pinky, and wormed it in with the other fingers. “Holy ffffffuck, Dip.”

The tight warmth enveloping his fingers seemed to pulse around them, clenching and relaxing in rhythm. Slowly he worked them, in and out, back and forth. The only sounds in the tent were the faint roar of an audience overpowering music, Mabel’s growls and moans of pleasure, and the wet, sticky sounds of flesh moving against flesh.

His thumb grazed up over the hood of her clit, and instantly her head whipped back, low moan evolving into a higher pitched, orgasmic wail. He kept rubbing in slow, gentle circles, only grazing over the flesh directly every few seconds. Her entire body shuddered, eyes rolling back in her head as she managed to speak that one word again, the one he was finding hard to ignore.

“More.”

“Mabes, are you sure, I don’t wanna hurt y-” he started, but she clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes glaring into his own. The hunger in them was carnal, starved for more of the full sensation she was experiencing. And, of course, how could he deny the object of his worship what she craved? He nodded, and pulled his hand back. he pressed the thumb against his palm, hand forming a wedge shape that he then pressed back into her. Slowly, steadily, he felt her walls slide over his own flesh until his wrist sat squarely against her entrance. When she removed the hand from his face, he started to speak. “Holy fuck, Mabel, I never tho-”

Yet again, she silenced him with a feverish kiss. Her lips never stopped moving on his own, sucking the breath from him as her body convulsed in climax. When she finally removed her lips from his own, she tugged him closer, nipping at his ear.

“Pull out and lay back, I’m gonna fuck you until your hips are bruised,” she purred. How could he say no to that? His hand pulled free with a loud squelching sound, and she whined at the sudden emptiness she felt. She didn’t even wait for him to situate himself, instead pushing him onto his back, then hitching his knees up to his shoulders.

“Uh, how are you going to…?” he asked, but with a hand on the base of his monstrous length he decided not to question her. She knelt in front of him, angling his manhood until it met the folds of her sex, and with one well timed thrust, took the entirety in one go. Both of them gasped, and Mabel ground herself up against him for good measure, rolling his flesh around against her own inner reaches.

When she pulled back, she was at first slow, but the thrust back against him was fast and hard. Hips pushed to hips urgently, both parties letting out a gasping moan. She was glad he seemed to be enjoying himself, and with a few more heavy thrusts, eventually she was going full tilt. I wonder if this is how awesome it feels for him when he’s the one thrusting, she wondered, leaning down to crush her lips to his in yet another kiss of passion. Which, apparently, was the last thing he needed.

He gasped sharply, inhaling through is nostrils as all of his muscles tightened. Her hips held fast to his own as she felt him convulse and unload inside of her, every pulse of his organ coupled with a flooding warmth that made her shudder. They stayed that way for what could have been a minute, or five, or sixty for all either of them cared. Only when he softened enough that her own muscles pushed him out did she roll off to the side. Her hand sought his, fingers interlacing as they managed to breath whispered I love you’s in the darkness of the tent.

“That was-” he panted, and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What is that even called?” he wondered aloud, and she giggled.

“Found it on the internet, people said it was 'amazon style’. Glad you liked it as much as I did,” she explained, lifting his hand to her lips to place a gentle kiss on the back of it. He just nodded furiously, reaching out to grab one of their pillows to set under his head.

“I never, EVER would have thought you’d be able to take an entire fist, sis,” he said flatly, and she tightened her grip on his hand.

“Yeah, me either! Heat of the moment and all that jazz, though.”

“What, uh, what was that like, by the way?” he inquired, looking over at her. Her eyes met his, and she grinned.

“I guess it’s a lot like what people say about having sex while camping,” she suggested, waggling her eyebrows at him. A confused look came over his face.

“What do you mean by th-” he started to ask, but then realization hit him and he felt slight irritation bubbling behind his thoughts. “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare say it!”

“It’s _fucking in tents_!”

He slapped her in the face with the pillow.


End file.
